We Both Know
by IndigoNightandRayneStorm
Summary: It’s that time of the year again and Frodo is ill. Sam desperately wants to help, but doesn’t know how. Post-RotK. ONESHOT.


**Title: **We Both Know

**Author: **IndigoNight

**Feedback: **Yes please

**Summary:** It's _that_ time of the year again and Frodo is ill. Sam desperately wants to help, but doesn't know how.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Lord of the Rings or the characters. Nor do I own the song for which this is title and the lyrics in the story.

**Rating: **PG

**Warnings: **None?

**Author's Note: **Random emotional drainage. Because Frodo and Sam make me smile. If you've never heard the song We Both Know by Sissel you really should go listen to it now, because it's absolutely beautiful. Read, Review

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_We both know  
I will hear your laughter again  
I know how it feels  
When the shadows lie upon you_

Sam stands in the doorway, unable enter but unable to leave. It's _that_ time again. Every year it comes, and every year here he stands, watching with a breaking heart but helpless to do anything about it.

Frodo lies on the bed, coverings twisted into knots around him and spilling over onto the floor. His face is feverish and flushed, screwed up with eyes closed as though in pain. The very faintest of moans escapes dry lips and he clutches the jewel around his neck as nightmares chase him relentlessly.

Sam desperately wants to go to his side. To take his hand and assure him that everything is alright. He wants to hold him as he cries, and wipe away his tears. He wants to run the nightmares off and forbid them from ever returning to trouble his Mr. Frodo again.

And yet he hesitates. He remembers how it was before, the deathly chill, the empty unseeing eyes. Those eyes were never meant to hold such pain; they should have remained pale and innocent forever, not darkened by a shadow even the greatest of men or elves could not have borne.

Sam is afraid. He is terrified that his Mr. Frodo is slowly, slowly slipping away from him. Every year when this time comes he is gripped with the unshakable fear that this time Frodo would not come back. He knows Frodo is still fighting. For the rest of them the war had ended years ago, but Frodo still carried the war within him, in scars that would never heal and pains that would never fade.

It is a burden that he could not carry for Frodo before, and as much as it pains him to think it, he cannot take the burden away now either. And so he hesitates in the doorway, wanting to do the impossible.

He's pulled from his musing as with a gasp Frodo jerks, striking out feebly at an attacker only he can see. The motion knocks the last of his coverings to the ground and he shudders in the chill. But that is not what startles Sam. It is the weak, desperate voice that calls out his name, a desperate shot in the tormented dark as the older hobbit struggled to cling to any life line he could get. He'd never done that before.

Almost before he realized it Sam had crossed the room and without thought drawn Frodo into his arms, cradling him exactly as he'd imagined doing so many times. "I'm here, Mr. Frodo," he whispers, "I've got you."

With the hand not clutching the Evenstar, Frodo grasps the front of Sam's shirt, eyes blinded by the nightmares he was caught in searching in vain. Sam grabbed the coverings back up off the floor, tenderly wrapping Frodo up in them. "I've got you, Mr. Frodo," he repeats the words over and over like a mantra, "I'm here, I'm right here."

He settled back against the headboard, Frodo's slight body firmly cradled in his lap, wrapped snuggly in the blanket, soothing Frodo in any way he could. How long they stayed that way Sam didn't know, not bothering to mark the time. Both hobbits were lost deep in memories of dark times.

At long last Frodo stirred. He blinked hazily as, for the first time in days, true awareness leaked into his eyes. Smiling, though it was weak, to see Sam dozing next to him, he reached out to brush away a strand of blonde hair that had fallen out of place.

"Oh Sam," he murmured, "Always taking care of me. Thank you."

Sam just shifted, snuggling deeper into the bed and pressing just a little closer to Frodo. "Can't take… no more… lembas…" he mumbled voice barely coherent as he slid deeper into his dreams.

Frodo starred at him a moment, then quite unexpectedly something bubbled up from deep in his chest and burst from his mouth as a chuckle.

Startled by the sound Sam jerked abruptly out of his dreams and managed to tumble from the edge of the bed to land in a very undignified tangle on his rear. With immediate concern Frodo quickly stuck his head over the edge of the bed to make sure Sam was unhurt, however at the befuddled look on Sam's face he couldn't contain his mirth.

Sam stared at him for a long moment, sleep not having entirely left him. But as Frodo collapsed on the bed in a nearly hysterical fit of giggles relief washed over Sam and he started to smile himself. Although he wasn't entirely sure what had started it, it had been so long since he'd heard Frodo truly laugh he didn't really care.

_Time finds you worthy one second chance  
Then you'll be ready won't let it slip away  
We both know  
I will hear your laughter again_


End file.
